Only Exception
by bjaarcy
Summary: Dexter's finally reunited with Remy after a long tour with Truth Squad and something's gonna go down. HORRIBLE SUMMARY, but it's a canon oneshot/songfic to Paramore's Only Exception. Rated T for swearing.


I am writing this simply because this idea has been stuck in my head since I first heard the song by Paramore. Enjoy! :3

Disclaimer: I do not own This Lullaby or Only Exception; if I did, do you really think I'd be here typing this out right now? Think about it! xP

PS T'is in Dexter's POV!

* * *

><p>When I said I was going to see Remy, just like I promised in my messy scrawl on the back of our imperfect picture, I was serious. I'm currently in the white van, gazing at the clear sky in the backseat with Monkey, and with the rest of the band in tow, as we steadily make our way to San Francisco. According to our manager, the guys and I are actually invading Spinnerbait territory now (still hate Spinnerbait!), but we couldn't have given less a shit.<p>

Truth Squad is doing quite well thank you very much. We've finally dropped our G Flats persona and have since stopped working for extra cash at weddings for good. Rubber Records keep saying we're getting noticed across the country, and while Ted had his reservations, I'm optimistic enough to believe that they're telling the truth. Besides, our concerts have yet to prove otherwise. Most of the gigs we've landed had pretty good crowds. And, in every concert, a pretty good portion of the crowd sang along with me to Ted's various opuses. We just finished our gig in Austin, and now we were on the highway entering San Francisco.

To be honest, I'm a bit surprised that Remy's stuck with me this entire time. After the passing summer – after I saw who she thought she truly was – I began to have my doubts in her. But I knew deep down that she was the softie I knew she was and has since proved so.

We've written each other non-stop (or, at least to Remy's standards, non-stop; I like to argue that a few times a month is _not_ non-stop, but whatever). She wrote about how well she was doing in her classes (she was going quite well actually, that brainiac). I wrote about the band's success and how Ted was still resilient about doing covers (though, there were cracks setting in). We both talked about how we didn't see anyone else, despite the amount of exposure to people we got daily. For example, Remy talked about two particular hot guys who flirted with her often in the economics class she was taking. I countered with how many dozens of girls asked for my number after every concert – which, I swear on Monkey, I did not give, no matter how hot the guys thought the chicks who asking for it were. We both mentioned how, no, we did not accept invitations to go out with anyone and have turned down every person who has tried. I knew _I_ was telling the truth, but I trusted Remy enough to believe that she told the truth too.

"Yo, Dex!" John Miller says suddenly, nudging my shoulder hard.

I pry my gaze away from the window to turn toward the red head sitting in the front seat and answer, "What, man?" By now, I realize that the vehicle has stopped moving and that we were in the crowded city in front of a building looking remarkably like a hotel. I glance outside the window briefly and find a sign that says in big letters "FOUR SEASONS", making my suspicions correct.

"We're here," he says exasperated, shaking his red mop of hair as if he'd been saying this for the past few minutes – which he probably has.

"I can see that," I finally remark, slowly making my way out of the van.

"God," he mutters under his breath as he slams the door after getting out of the van.

When I finally exit the cramped vehicle, and as Monkey races out to find a place to pee, I stomp onto the ground and my hands reach way over my messy hair. I make my fists try to grab the sky as I arched by back. I can hear John Miller mumbling nonsense about me behind my back as I roll my neck.

I drop my arms, and I turn around to find the red head shooting me a stern look. "You seriously need to get your head out of the clouds, Dex," he says.

"Whatever," I reply with a roll of my eyes as I slam my door shut.

I call Monkey over once he finishes his business to give him a scratch and tug behind his ear. I give him our little pep talk again about how hotels usually don't allow pets into their buildings (unfortunately) and how he has to stay back in the van. I suggest that he faithfully watches the white van as we're getting settled into our rooms. It may sound strange, but I know Monkey understands since: 1) he's already done this before and 2) he's climbing back into the van as soon as I open the door. I slide the van's door close after I make sure that there's enough food and water for Monkey and that the window is open wide enough for him to stick his head out but still too short for someone to break in.

When John Miller and I notice that Ted and Lucas are nowhere to be seen, we stupidly search around the van only to remember that the two were checking in for us. This meant that we had to bring in all the luggage, which still wasn't much compared to what we originally used to haul around. Once John Miller and I roll in all 4 rolling bags into the lobby, we find the guitarist and the keyboardist talking to each other at the front desk. Lucas and Ted abruptly stop talking when they see me and even flinch a little before acting natural.

I walk up to Ted and ask, "What's up?"

"Nothing," he replies a little too quickly.

I eye him carefully before following him into an elevator when Lucas says, "Let's go."

Something is definitely up.

Now, I've known this for a while. I mean, I'm not that stupid. For the past month or so, I've caught all three of the guys muttering something to one another before shutting up whenever I entered the room. Ted's also had some mysterious calls lately, and I knew they were suspicious because he'd always take a quick glance at me before excusing himself to take the call. Now, I know I shouldn't care, but I also that know the nagging feeling in pit of my stomach was right whenever it said whatever the guys were being secretive about concerned me.

Personally, I'd like to think they weren't talking about kicking me out of the band.

Oh God, I hope they don't kick me out of the band…

- o - - - - - - - - - - - - o -

After the guys and I settle into our rooms – me with Ted, Lucas with John Miller – we hang out in John Miller and Lucas' room to touch base with our manager and our agent at Rubber Records. After thanking them again for paying for the hotels we've stayed at (including this one), we have a quick run through of when our concert was, where to set up, and what the setlist was going to be. We get all the details covered and we agree that we are going to have one quick rehearsal tonight before the official concert tomorrow. Afterwards, Ted pulls out his guitar and John Miller brings out his laptop as Lucas and I watch the TV. It isn't long until I take a nap on one of the beds only to wake up remembering I was going to see Remy. I tell the guys I'm heading out once I get off the bed and add that I'm bringing the white van with me. When John Miller complains that – oh no! – he isn't able to go to McDonald's now, Ted elbows him in the ribs and coughs pointedly.

"Seeing Remy?" Ted asks as John Miller recovers from the guitarist's elbow.

I shoot Ted an apprehensive look before answering, "Yeah. What's it to you?"

"Nothing," he instantly replies as he turns back to his guitar with furrowed brows. Still looking away, he finally adds, "You gonna bring her to the sound check later?"

I arch an eyebrow and answer, "Dunno, man. Maybe." This doesn't seem to be enough of an answer, so then I carefully amend, "If Remy wants to tag along, then I guess I'll bring her over. Why?"

Ted finally looks at me with stern eyes and finishes the conversation, "Like I said: nothing." This time, I furrow my brows and look at him for a moment before turning towards the door.

John Miller and Lucas eye me and say nothing as I walk out the room, shaking my head in speculation. Why did whatever they were keeping from me concern Remy?

- o - - - - - - - - - - - - o -

"Well done Dexter, you've managed to trip and stumble into disaster before you're within a 10 foot radius of me," Remy says with a roll of her eyes when she finally closes the distance between us. I know she's less pissed off than annoyed as she helps me up to my feet again.

It's 2:06 pm and I have just arrived at Stanford's campus after about an hour's drive from the hotel. And upon getting out of the white van, I immediately spotted Remy waiting for me. She was leaning against one of the long, common-on-campus columns that curved into an arch as it connected to a building, which was where we agreed to meet. After closing the door to the driver's seat and locking the vehicle, I sprinted towards Remy, only to end up tripping over one of my undone laces. Which brings us to now with Remy helping me up from the ground.

"God," Remy now says as she pats off the dust and dirt that collected on my shirt during the fall. "What am I gonna do with you?"

I flash a toothy smile at her. "Love me and never leave me," I reply with a wink.

As Remy rolls her eyes and even chuckles a little, I wrap my arms around her and lean in for a kiss. I slide my eyes shut and Remy eases into my grip as she tries deepening the kiss by silencing her giggles. It's during the silence between us that I realize I've really missed her laugh, so I slide one of my hands to her stomach and begin to tickle her mischievously. Remy's laughing against my lips in reaction to my fingers tickling her stomach and I smirk before opening my eyes.

"Well, well," I tease with the evil grin still plastered on my face, "It seems like someone can't stop laughing today!"

Remy narrows her eyes even as she continues to giggle before replying, "Oh shut up Dexter!"

Then, Remy tries to push me away by putting her hands on my chest. Instead of letting her go and moving away though, I use the arm I still have wrapped around her to bring her even closer to me and I lean in for another kiss. This time, I kiss her deeply and I bring up my other hand to her neck, placing my thumb on her pulse point. I can feel her take a gulp and press my lips even closer to hers. Remy's breath is warm against mine and I can taste her sweet lips. Her teeth catch my bottom lip and I drag my tongue over her barely exposed teeth. I hum a happy sound then, and her arms slip around my neck.

It almost feels surreal, being here and kissing Remy sweetly on Stanford's campus. After months of separation due to the band's tour and her studies, it feels amazing to finally have Remy in my arms again. Call me cliché, but it feels perfect. All those months of missing her and turning down so many girls are so worth the moment I'm sharing with Remy right now.

I pull away from her lips reluctantly to breathe. I chuckle under my breath briefly when I realize her lips began to chase after mine.

"I've missed you so much," I finally admit with a sheepish smile.

After a quick second of hesitation, she quietly confesses, "I've missed you too…"

I back up a bit to look down into her bright eyes and search through them. For what, I still have no idea, but as I explore the gorgeous hazel orbs that are Remy's eyes, I realize that there's a spark there, deep below the golden flakes which surround the rim of her pupils. This spark, I know, is something uncommon – rare even – for Remy. And, for a moment, I feel stupidly happy because I _know_ I'm the one who caused that spark.

She looks away timidly then, as if I've caught her in the act of doing something no one was supposed to find out, and her gaze suddenly becomes occupied by the people surrounding us. "You know," she finally says, "as much as I would _love_ to stand here and just hold you, people are starting to stare." On cue, she begins to stare down someone in the crowd around us, but I just roll my eyes. "Come on, I'll show you to my dorm," Remy suggests. "Angela's out till later tonight, so I've got the room to myself."

Before I can even answer, Remy's out of my grip and pulling me by my hand into the campus. As we walk together, her leading the way through the seemingly endless crowd of college students, she points out several buildings. She talks enthusiastically about a cluster of large buildings which hold her classes, but her tone changes drastically when we reach the buildings that hold the dorms. She sneers about one particular building where apparently one of the "dumb bitches" that boarded there was "completely annoying" and often interrupted one of her classes. At this, I just nod my head and continue to let her vent, half-afraid of what could happen if I interrupted her.

When we finally reach Remy's dorm, we walk through a series of halls and trudge our way up a spiraling staircase before reaching her room. After she unlocks the door, Remy holds it open for me and I enter the room. The dorm's not terrible: a bit on the smaller side for two roommates, but at least the room was immaculate and comfortable enough. There's a bed on either end of the room, and they neighbour a large window. Underneath the window is a dresser drawer and at the foot of each bed is a small study table with respective laptops. I can immediately tell which side of the room was Remy's: the right side, with the crisp sheets on the hotel-worthy made bed, and the simple white table and furnishings that followed. Angela – who I remembered after a while was Remy's roommate since she was mentioned a few times throughout Remy's letters – also has a clean half of the room. But the untucked bed sheets and messy piles of paper on the desk of that side of the dorm gave away that it was clearly not Remy's.

I walk over to Remy's tidy desk and glance over some of the contents: Remy's laptop, a stack of neatly piled papers I assume are various assignments, and a lamp with a picture taped onto the neck. I bend over and level my eyes with the image. I recognize it immediately because it's the picture Barbara took of Remy and me at the airport before she left for Stanford, the one with the message I left saying that I'd meet Remy once the band and I finally reach San Francisco. The picture still looks new and crisp except for the fact that it's faded a bit from staying underneath the lamp's concentrated light and heat. I stand up straight and turn around to an expectant looking Remy.

"Well?" she asks with crossed arms then, as if waiting for some sort of approval. Or maybe to see if I am actually going to dare to defy the immaculate masterpiece that is her side of the dorm.

I stare at her very sternly for a moment before answering in the most serious voice I can come up with, "I am disappointed, Miss Remy." Then, I jerk my head towards the desk behind me.

Remy gasps for a fleeting moment before composing herself. She shoots me a murderous look and opens her mouth to say something but I just smirk and close the distance between us. As I wrap my arms around her waist, spreading my fingers apart on the small of her back, Remy finally gets it.

Her frame is still rigid as I tuck my head into the crook between her neck and shoulders, she says, "You were kidding, weren't you? You better be kidding, Dexter, or I swear – !"

I chuckle into Remy's neck and I can feel her relaxing because she slightly shudders and her crossed arms drop to her sides in response. As I plant soft kisses onto her skin, I whisper, "Of course I was serious, Remy. I'm disappointed you let the picture fade!" I pull my head away from Remy's neck to face her. With a sly smile, I continue, "I thought that _you_ of all people could have figured out a way to not let the picture fade, considering how… _thorough_… you are."

I let myself smirk as Remy scoffs and mocks an offended expression. I know Remy's not actually offended since we both know it's fun to play up how anal she can get about things sometimes. Remy slaps me hard on the chest and I exaggerate how hurt I am by faking a gasp.

"Take it back," she commands with narrowed eyes. But I can see past her façade: the corners of her mouth are fighting a smile.

I look down at her with the same serious expression she has and simply reply, "No." But then I smile devilishly and begin to plant sloppy kisses all over her face. Remy attempts to back away, wincing as she does so. But I know she's enjoying it, so I tighten my grip and begin kissing my way towards her ear.

Remy's still trying to back away when I start nipping her earlobe. She laughs, "God! I hate you."

"On the contrary," I whisper directly into her ear, "you love me."

Remy drops her face onto my shoulders then and shakes her head into my shoulder blade, making her ear slip out of my mouth's reach. Her arms curve themselves around my stomach.

"Yoooooooooouuuuuu looooooooove meeeeeeeeee," I continue to taunt.

At this, Remy looks up to the ceiling with an exasperated look and I just smile. It actually feels extremely nice to be back into such an easy pattern, i.e.: make fun of Remy, make her laugh, be forgiven, love her. It's different from the last few months I had, in which I had to survive living with the guys again. (Except, obviously, this time around, the guys and I actually had people depending on us to get to do our shows because – hello! – we have a label backing us up. But that's beside the point.) It's a comfortable change that I know I'm more than willing to accept.

- o - - - - - - - - - - - - o -

Seeing as it's Friday, and since Remy had already planned beforehand how to manage her work around me, I end up slumming at Remy's dorm until about ten to five. By then, Remy and I have caught up with what's been going on since we last wrote each other (which was about 3 weeks ago) and have also reminisced about our summer together. Other than Remy receiving one text from Angela, Remy and I talk uninterrupted on her bed the entire time we're together. Sometime during our talk, we end up ordering pizza and Remy gives me a speech similar to that of eating in her car. Except, obviously, we're in her dorm. And that there _were actually few exceptions_ she made when it came to eating in the room. I tell her I'm flattered that I'm one of these special "exceptions".

At this confession, Remy looks away uncomfortably and even blushes a bit. I soon realize that she's keeping a secret, but before I can even speculate, my cell buzzes. I scarf down the rest of my pizza slice before hastily wiping my oily hands on my jeans and swiping my phone out of my back pocket. I see that I have a new text from Ted telling me to "_hurry the fuck up because we still have prep 6_". For a moment, I think _oh shit,_ and freak out internally because I completely forgot about the rehearsal.

I snap out of my thoughts once Remy speaks up though. "Who's that?" she asks as she nodded her head towards my phone.

"Ted," I reply after swallowing the last of the pizza crust, "He's just reminding me that we have a quick rehearsal tonight." I look at her apologetically.

Remy tilts her head to the side in confusion and narrows her eyes. "I thought you said that the concert's tomorrow night though…"

I sigh and shake my head. "We just have a quick rehearsal and sound check tonight. The concert _is_ tomorrow."

I stand up and properly wipe my hands on a tissue. After throwing my garbage away into the trash bin, I walk over to Remy and plant a kiss on her forehead. She's sitting on her bed, finishing the last of her slice, when her gaze meets mine after my lips part from her head.

"I'm sorry I have to leave already," I say, meaning every word. I feel incredibly guilty for having to leave so soon.

Remy swallows a piece of pizza before answering, "It's okay." She blinks for a moment, and I sense a slight hesitation from her. It's a little weird, because Remy's always so sure of herself, but before I can really think about it, she interrupts my thoughts. "Do-do you think I can come and watch?" she asks hesitantly.

I blink back at her before replying, "Yeah! Of course!" I beam at her and nod my head enthusiastically. _Yes!_ At least our time together won't be cut too short.

She smiles back at me and cleans up the remainder of our meal before we lock up the room and head back to the white van together, hand in hand.

- o - - - - - - - - - - - - o -

Remy and I arrive at Truth Squad's rehearsal about an hour after we leave Stanford. Ted glares at me since I'm approximately 10 minutes late, but I can't be bothered. I mean, Remy's still here with me and I can't really care much about anything else. To be honest, I just want to get this rehearsal over with so I can spend more time with her.

My wish isn't granted because it's a few hours later when our sound check and rehearsal ends. Remy sits in the seats in front of the stage as the rest of the guys and I practice our performance for tomorrow night. She claps appreciatively after each song we practice and smiles encouragingly at me several times. (Which helps because Ted's really being a pain in the ass.) We thankfully wrap up after one more run through with our grand finale, which was an epic medley of Ted's opuses.

When we finally finish, I jump off stage and ask Remy how she thought it went. She simply says that it was "good" and I know that's about as good as I was going to get so I just take her comment. After, I tell her I need to take a piss (because… well, I do) so I give Remy a quick kiss on the cheek before announcing to everyone that I'll be backstage for a minute. Upon returning from my trip to the washroom, I round the corner see Remy and Ted talking on stage seriously, and, quite frankly, a little nervously. I stop myself dead in my tracks. I can tell they're talking about me because I can clearly see Remy mouthing my name. And then, though I'm not sure how it happened, my legs end up transporting me towards them.

And the next thing I know, once I'm within earshot, I'm demanding, "Why are you talking about me?"

Ted and Remy look completely startled when they hear me. They both stare at me with wide eyes.

"Well?" I finally ask. Somewhere around me, I can feel Lucas and John Miller stopping whatever they were doing to watch.

Ted's about to say something when Remy finally cuts him off by looking at him and asking, "Can we just do it tonight?"

I stare at them surprised and confused, but they pay no attention to me. Instead, Ted shrugs and answers, "Why the hell not?" Then he's reaching for his guitar after motioning for John Miller and Lucas to get back into performance position.

As John Miller and Lucas return to their respective instruments and positions, Remy pushes me down off the stage and we walk over to the front row of seats. "Sit," she commands, nodding towards the seat behind me, and I obey.

"Wh-what's going on?" I finally stutter when Remy turns around and takes no more than 2 steps away from me.

Remy turns back around and retraces her steps. At last, she answers, "Remember when I said Angela texted earlier?" I nod because I do remember, but I'm still unable to understand what Remy's getting at. "Well, it wasn't Angela; it was Ted who texted me," she explains then. "He told me that you guys were rehearsing tonight, so I decided to execute something I've been planning for a while with the guys. That's why I asked if I could join you for your rehearsal…" she trails off before looking at me with a very serious and expectant expression.

"…_planning for a while with the guys…_" I replay in my head. Finally, it dawns on me that whatever was about to happen was what Ted and the guys have been secretly hiding from me all this time.

So _that's_ why it concerned Remy.

And that's why it concerned me.

Oh, then thank God; I'm not kicked out of the band.

"Anyway," Remy says, cutting me off my train of thought, "it's for you, because I actually feel like I need to _do_ something for you since you've been kind enough to put up with me and all…" Remy admits and sort rambles then. "And it kinda has to deal with what you said earlier about being a special exception. So you better enjoy it."

Remy doesn't wait for my reply, so with wide eyes, I watch her climb back onto the stage and walk behind the mic and mic stand that I just performed with. "Check, 1, 2," she says, and pokes the head of the microphone with her finger before feeling satisfied with how it sounded. Remy looks to the rest of the guys, who are already in position, before looking down and shaking her head as she clasps her hands together. Thanks to the mic, I can hear her whisper, "I can't believe I'm doing this…"

Remy takes a deep breath before turning to Ted, who begins to slowly count as his foot tapped a tempo, "1, 2, 3, 4…" And then he and Lucas begin to play.

Ted's strumming a familiar and repetitive pattern as Lucas plays simple chords on his keyboard. Seven seconds into the song and I know for a fact that this isn't a song that the guys and I have ever practiced together, and that it actually sounds like something we usually wouldn't play. But I also know for a fact that I've heard this song before.

It isn't long before Remy closes her eyes and begins to sing.

_**When I was younger I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind**_

When I hear Remy's soft voice singing the lyrics, it's then that I realize it's a Paramore song: Only Exception.

_**He broke his own heart and I watched as he tried to reassemble it**_

_**And my mama swore that she would never let herself forget**_

By now, my feelings are so conflicted I honestly don't know which to feel first. As I go back and forth between feeling shock and happiness, my body stills and my breath hitches as Remy continues to perform. All I know is that this song really means something to Remy, because her eyes are still closed and she's sort of swaying to the music. It's similar to the way I bring my hand to my chest when I really get into a song.

_**And that was the day that I promised I'd never sing of love if it does not exist…**_

Now, Remy opens her eyes and looks directly at me.

_**But darling you are the only exception**_

Wait.

I'm her only exception?

_**You are the only exception**_

I'm her only exception.

_**You are the only exception**_

I grin at Remy when I realize this.

_**You are the only exception**_

Remy's hands separate to slide into her pant's pockets as Remy shrugs sheepishly. She smiles coyly at me and I continue grin. I barely notice the rest of the band around her, and I'm vaguely aware of Ted cuing in John Miller, who begins to play a tambourine.

_**Well maybe I know, somewhere deep in my soul, that love'd never last**_

At this, Remy closes her eyes again and I know she's thinking of herself and her past relationships. I know Remy well enough by now to know that she never really believed in love, and was always one to keep everyone else at arms' distance before love really had a chance. I swallow a lump in my throat, because I know that the lyrics Remy's singing now truly express the way she feels, and the fact that she's singing them to _me_ makes my stomach jump around.

_**And we've got to find other ways to make it alone or keep a straight face**_

Remy opens her eyes again and looks at me gravely, unconsciously emphasizing the lyrics she was singing. I can tell she's getting really sensitive about this right now, because her eyes are soft even though her expression is stony.

I kind of want to get out of my seat and just hold her.

_**And I've always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance**_

Now, Remy's gaze wonders away from mine. Her eyes sweep around the empty area around us, exaggerating our distance, before her eyes link back with mine.

_**And up until now I had sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness**_

_**because none of it was ever worth the risk**_

Remy's shaking her head, accentuating how much meaning these lyrics had, as her eyes close once more. The music builds up and John Miller quickly and quietly drops his tambourine before drumming lightly on the cymbals to lead up to the chorus once more.

_**But you are the only exception**_

Remy's hazel eyes open again and our gazes meet once more. She's looking at me seriously and emotionally as she continues to sing. I still have a smile plastered onto my face and it almost hurts my cheeks when my mouth stretches wider across my face.

_**You are the only exception**_

My heart feels like it's going to beat out of my chest right now. I can't believe that _my_ Miss Remy – _my_ Remy Starr – was actually serenading me.

_**You are the only exception**_

Is it actually possible to feel happier than I do now?

_**You are the only exception**_

Remy closes her eyes as she holds the note and then looks to the rest of the band, all of whom smile at her encouragingly as they continue to play. Ted's playing an intense riff on his guitar, Lucas is playing a simple melody on his keyboard, and John Miller's jamming along with them as Remy sways from side to side in silence.

I try to collect my thoughts during the short break in the song. My judgment on Remy's voice right now is that she's actually not that bad a singer. Obviously, Remy and I have both heard better voices, and I'll be damned if she ever hears what I have to say about her singing voice, but when Remy sings… it's really sweet. Her voice is a little raw, and sometimes slightly out of tune since I know for a fact she doesn't sing (at all), but it certainly isn't displeasing. It's a bit soft, and it has an almost soothing tone to it. Remy's voice is quite different from Paramore's female vocalist's, but it's still somewhat alike in the sense that it's not so powerful to really overwhelm the song.

In conclusion: I really like it.

It's perfect.

_She's_ perfect.

The music shifts a bit, cuing Remy in for the bridge, and Remy closes her eyes in concentration. One of her hands grabs the mic as the other grabs the mic stand. I can tell she's holding tight because her knuckles begin to turn white at her grip.

And now I'm feeling strangely extra happy because Remy's actually pretty awesome at what I love to do.

_**I got a tight grip on reality but I can't let go of what's in front of me here**_

The corners of Remy's eyes crinkle and I can tell she's tightening her eyes to get into deeper concentration.

_**I know you'll leave it in the morning when you wake up**_

Her head sways in rhythm with the music and I can tell that she's really getting emotional and passionate about this.

_**Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream**_

Her imperfect-but-still-kind-of-perfect voice is soaring over the music.

_**Oh-oh-ohh**_

The music quiets down dramatically and Remy opens her eyes tiredly. She takes a breath and gives me a brief, small smile before she looks at me with a warm expression.

_**You are the only exception**_

_**You are the only exception**_

Ted, Lucas and John Miller start building up the music again, and my heart seems like it's pounding in time with John Miller's beat.

_**You are the only exception**_

_**You are the only exception**_

And then with a roll on John Miller's drums, everything is in full swing again.

_**You are the only exception**_

_**You are the only exception**_

Remy's looking at me passionately and I get out of my seat to walk towards the stage. Except for Remy, everyone else looks at me curiously because they know that I know I'm supposed to stay in my seat, but I don't give a damn. I jump onto the stage.

At this point, I've realized why Remy was uncomfortable earlier when I mentioned how pleased I was with being her "special exception". Except – in reality, and according to this song –I'm her _only_ exception.

_**You are the only exception**_

I can't even begin to fathom how happy this makes me feel. It's like I need to jump for joy, sing loudly, and burst into a ball of awesomness all at the same time. It's unreal, and I know for a fact that I have never, _ever_ felt this way before. Never, ever felt so happy because of one simple act someone else has done for me.

And I'm glad that Remy's the one that makes me feel this way.

_**You are the only exception**_

Now, as I close the distance between Remy and me, Remy's smiling bright and wide.

_**And I'm on my way to believing**_

I'm directly in front of Remy now, and I'm close enough to reach out and cup her cheek with my hand, so I do that. Remy leans her face into my hand and blinks at me before letting her eyes flutter shut.

_**Oh, and I'm on my way to believing**_

Remy's voice goes really soft, and it eventually fades away into silence with the rest of the music. When she finally opens her eyes, I use the hand I have on her cheek to guide her face around the mic, so I can bring it close to mine. I lean down when her lips are halfway towards mine and I kiss her. The kiss is passionate and emotional, but very, _very_ sweet. Eventually, my hand slides down from her cheek to her neck, and I begin to circle my thumb around her pulse. I break the kiss with a smile and Remy and I both ignore the hollers that the guys are yelling right now.

I make my way towards Remy's ear and whisper, "You were amazing."

Remy giggles softly and pulls away from my hand to face me again. "I know," she simply agrees.

"'I know'?" I repeat. Was she really going to be boastful about this now? I look at her with my "are you serious?" face and am about to say something, but she pecks me on the lips again before I get the chance.

Then, Remy softly giggles, "Hey, you're my Only Exception, remember?"

* * *

><p>I. AM. DONE. HALLELUJAH! LOL. I have to say, it was REALLY fun to write in Dexter's point of view! Also, I really, really hope I stayed as canon as possible with Remy. Oh yeah, I have no idea how set ups and gigs and stuff involving the music industry actually <em>work,<em> so forgive me if I got something painstakingly wrong :3 AND LASTLY, I hope that someone enjoyed this! SHOW YOUR LOVE BY REVIEWING AND FAVING? ;D

x o x o bjaarcy

PS I have absolutely no idea if Remy's eyes are hazel. SD never really gave much info on that so I just guessed. If you have any idea what Remy's eyes look like, tell me and I'll edit the fic accordingly :)

PPS I'M REALLY SORRY IF I DIDN'T DESCRIBE STANFORD THE WAY IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN DESCRIBED. I've never physically _seen it,_ so all I had to work with were crappy images from Google. FORGIVE ME IF I'M INCCORECT. I can rewrite the Stanford scenes if you feel particularly wronged by it if I was just that off x3


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